“Surprise!” Alan takes his sister into a hug, but Tara pushes him away and hugs Vickie. She then leans down and kisses her belly. Ethan follows behind, along with his sister, Elizabeth who has her arm wrapped around a guy who’s an exact replica of Ethan, only younger. He’s holding the hand of a woman.
“Colt, Vickie,” Tara begins, “this is Adam Flynn and his wife Melanie. As you’ve heard, Adam is Ethan and Elizabeth’s little brother.”
He might be younger, but he’s not little. He’s taller than Ethan, and he looks like a trained athlete. He gives us a firm handshake.
“The prodigal brother,” Vickie says. “Welcome to the family. I’m Vickie Chastain, and this is my husband, Colt.”
“You know what it does to me when you call yourself Vickie Chastain,” I whisper in her ear.
“Tone it down, Neanderthal,” she whispers back.
“And my daddy,” Evan says. “Can we go fight now?” My son and Vincent are both holding boxing gloves.
“Adam’s teaching the boys to box,” Ethan says. “Go ahead, guys. There’s a makeshift gym downstairs with a new punching bag.”
“Come on, Uncle Adam.” Vincent snatches Adam’s hand from Melanie and starts to pull him.
Alan clears his throat and says, “I guess old Uncle Alan will just wait here.” Vickie rolls her eyes at her brother. “With the women.”
“Do you want to come?” Adam asks Alan.
“I mean, I guess.” Alan shrugs in disinterest. “Are these lessons just for the kids?”
“Do you need to learn?” Adam asks.
“I already know almost everything about boxing, but it will be nice to get someone else’s perspective.”
Vickie and Tara both snicker.
“Sure you do, twin,” Vickie says.
“Come on then,” Adam says. He walks away with the boys, and Alan follows.
“Who can’t fight now?” Alan says to his sisters.
“Just remember when you make a fist that the thumb goes on the outside,” Tara yells at him. Alan gives her the middle finger and leaves.”
The rest of us follow Tara into the kitchen while she prepares lunch. Melanie volunteers to help, and I pull out a chair for my wife.
“When’s the baby due?” Melanie asks.
“Six weeks,” I announce.
“How long have you been married?” she asks.
“Less time than I’ve been pregnant,” Vickie answers. “His sperm attached itself to my egg. Didn’t bother to ask permission.”
“Rude,” Melanie says.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I say.
“I know. I like you.” Vickie stands and approaches Melanie. “We’re going to be good friends.”
That afternoon, in the privacy of our hotel room, my wife braids my hair for the game and massages my shoulders until I fall asleep. That’s our tradition whenever she’s with me before a game. I don’t know how I ever played before this.
* * *
Six Weeks Later
